


its been a long year

by newrromantics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Lydia, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newrromantics/pseuds/newrromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lydia tries to make it in university // an argent secret, learning to cope with allison's death, two new kind-of-girlfriends and getting really drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	its been a long year

Beacon Hills is gone. 

 

 

Lydia moves her boxes into her new dorm room, her hair tied in a messy bun and her outfit perfectly polished to suit the days activities but also to emphasis that she's a style queen. She vows that this year will be different, that  _she'll_ be different.

 

 

"I'm Stella!" Her roommate introduces herself, she's got a jet black bob and tattoos sprinkled across one arm and her outfit is all pale pink. 

Lydia grins at her, giving her a small wave from where she's perched on her bed. 

"I'm Lydia," 

 

 

Stella drags her out that first night, and it's the first time Lydia's been genuinely excited for anything in a year. Stella drags her out to a bar off campus, and it's just the two of them, flirting with older boys to buy them shots and talking about what classes they're taking for the following year. 

 

 

Drunk, they return home. Giggling and laughing and sharing stories. One time Stella stole a dog from her neighbour who didn't feed it properly and took it to school. Lydia snorts as she listens to the story, stumbling up the stairs. She tells Stella about Prada and how when she first saw her she fell in love. Stella  _aws_ and asks for pictures. Lydia promises to find one in the morning. 

 

 

"Hi!" Stella greets her brightly in the morning. Lydia groans, flipping onto the other side and pulling the covers up over her face. 

"Hi," She grumbles from underneath the covers. Stella laughs, offering her new friend a bottle of water. 

 

 

Stella quickly becomes her new best friend. Drinking and dancing and binge watching T.V. shows at four in the morning. Stella talks about New York a lot, about her family and her friends, and what her old life was like. Lydia smiles, and laughs, but never mentions her own past. 

 

 

They're out at a bar, again. Stella's scouting out cute boys, and Lydia's scrolling through her phone, telling her to inform her when she finds one. 

"Found one!" Stella exclaims in glee, clapping her hands together. Lydia looks up, only to find Jackson staring back at her, Stella oblivious to the history Lydia has with the cute boy she's found. 

"Lydia," Jackson says, surprised. Stella grins, shooting Lydia a sly smile. 

"Jackson, Hi. I thought you were in London?" Lydia replies, dumbfounded. She's tried so hard to escape Beacon Hills, and here Jackson is, a painful reminder of all she's lost. Jackson nods his head, shuffling his feet. He looks older than the last time she saw him, and he seems a lot less cocky, too. 

Lydia feels her whole body freeze up as she looks at him, she's at a loss for words. And she  _really_ wishes Stella wasn't here right now.

"I'm sorry," Jackson says, taking her by surprise. Lydia lets a small smile grace her lips.

"Well the least you could do is buy me a drink," 

 

 

Stella asks about him the whole way home and Lydia remains tight lipped, a sly smile on her face and a mental promise to never see the stupid boy again. 

 

 

Jackson turns up again, though. 

But this time Stella isn't around. 

Sighing, Lydia grabs his elbow and steers him towards a quieter corner of the room. 

"Look, Jackson. I don't want to see you again, alright? I don't want to think about you or Beacon Hills or — " Lydia stops, freezes the fingers currently running through her hair and bites her lip. She's gonna cry, isn't she? 

Jackson leaves.

 

 

Stella is only fun for a while, though. Because soon she becomes preoccupied with schoolwork and her girlfriend, leaving no time for little Lydia Martin. 

 

 

Lydia doesn't return back to Beacon Hills on her break, she travels to the South of France instead. 

 

 

It's nice in France, the weather is always beautiful and there's new places to find and escape to. Of course, the boys aren't bad to look at either. 

Lydia locks herself in an old library one day, curling up on a velvet sofa in a secluded era with an old Tolstoy novel. Her eyes wonder over the shelves as the book grows boring, her eyes landing on one word that sends a sharp pain to her heart: Argent. 

The book is bound in leather, with silver specks from what Lydia can see. Leaning forward, she removes the book from it's place on the shelf. Nervously, she flicks through it. Werewolves and arrows and legacies jumping out at her. Names that sound familiar to her plastered across the pages.  _  
_

Lydia doesn't read it all, in too much shock to do so. This is a book about Allison's family, about their morals and their codes and their prophecies and their legacies. On the last three pages there's a huge list of names and dates. Allison Argent is the last name on the page, the date of her death printed next to her name.

With a clash, the book falls out of Lydia's hands and onto the floor. A librarian near by lets out a huff, and Lydia quickly swoops it back up into her arms and checks it out at the counter. She might never return it, because her flight leaves in a day and she's already planning to take it with her to read on the way back to university. It's too big for her to read in one day, or one night. Not when she still has so much of France to explore, and packing to do. 

 _It can wait,_ she tells herself as she races back to her hotel room and stuffs it into her suitcase.  _It will wait._

 

 

"I'm going to miss you!" Nadine pouts, suffocating Lydia in a hug. 

"I'll call  _and_ I'll write," Lydia promises, a teasing edge to her voice as she hugs Nadine back. 

 

 

Stella gets back to their dorm before Lydia does. 

"Mary and I broke up over the holidays," Stella sighs, holding up a bottle of whiskey as the words pour out of her mouth. 

"I'll get the ice-cream," Lydia gleefully replies. Mary wasn't much fun anyway. 

 

 

It's another week before she touches  _Argent_. 

She's scared of what she'll find written in the pages. 

Stella comes home as Lydia's halfway through the fourth page, quickly she hides it underneath her bed, grinning at an intoxicated Stella who's wobbling in her pink heels. 

"Never. Drinking. Again." Stella groans before falling on her bed. 

Lydia is too afraid to open the book up again incase Stella awakes. 

 

 

"You never talk about your home. I don't even know where you're from!" Stella laughs the next morning over breakfast. Lydia gives her a tight smile, knowing that she's prying. That she needs to give Stella  _something._

"I'm from Beacon Hills. It's in California," Lydia tersely replies. Praying that Stella won't pry into her past anymore. Her new found friend frowns. 

"I had a friend that moved there, I haven't heard from her in a while." Stella mentions, taking a bite of her apple while looking at Lydia thoughtfully. 

Beacon Hills is a small town. Even if Lydia pretends not to know those she crosses in the hallways, she knows  _everybody._ Had made it her business to know every detail about everyone; she never really succeeded at knowing everything. She wants to know who Stella knows, though. Lydia can't help but want to know. 

"Oh, who? Beacon Hills is pretty small, I might know of them," She replies, a small gracing her lips. Maybe it'll be easier to open up about her past in the coming months. It would be nice to talk to somebody. 

Stella smiles, shaking her head. "She moves around a lot. I only knew her very briefly, a month or so. She probably would of moved again, it was  _ages_ ago," Stella waves her hand in the air. 

And Lydia feels her heart stop. Who else moved around a lot? Never staying in one place for long? 

"Allison," Lydia whispers, standing up quickly. Stella frowns, her brows furrowing. 

"Yeah, how did you know?" Stella asks, an element of surprise in her voice as she watches Lydia. 

But Lydia — she  _runs_. 

 

 

 _Make it go away! Make it go away! Make it go away!_  

Lydia sobs in front of the toilet seat, flushing it quickly. She thinks she might have vomit in her hair. Her eyes are bloodshot, she's sure. 

 

 

"You okay?" Stella asks, watching Lydia. 

She's motionless in the bathroom, splayed out against the floor. Head resting against the bath. 

"Allison was my best friend," Lydia whispers, clenching her teeth. Saying her name hurts. Nobody had really talked about her after the funeral, it was a touchy subject, and they all wanted to avoid it as much as they could. They had all thought,  _maybe we can just pretend she moved_. Lydia will tell you now: It doesn't work. 

"Did you guys have a bad fight or something?" Stella asks softly, coming to sit next to Lydia. Stella's been through bad fights before, violent and sad, she's lost heaps of friends in the process. She knows what it's like, but you always make up with friends. Stella smiles encouragingly at Lydia, ready to launch into a speech about how they'll be friends again in no time. 

"No," Lydia chokes out, shaking her head. She feels so small, and so weak. Stella shouldn't have to see her like this — but in someways it's helpful. Lydia had only cried once after she died, the morning of her funeral. One cry to get it out of her system, in the privacy of the confines of her bedroom, no wolves around to hear her and nobody around to see her. 

"Just miss her?" Stella asks hesitantly, deep down she knows that's not the answer. Nobody acts like this over a friend they just miss, you could always call them, text them, facebook them, travel to see them — 

And Lydia hasn't really been right for months. It's just the little things Stella's noticed, but there's a sadness that follows Lydia everywhere she goes. 

"No, Allison — " Lydia pauses, taking a deep breath in. Stella feels her skin go cold, she's not stupid, okay. Something bad happened, it would explain why she hadn't heard from her in a while, why Lydia always looks so sad, why she's so distraught right now. 

"Allison died, and it still hurts. It still  _fucking hurts_ and nobody ever talks about her.  _I watched her die._ I knew it was going to happen, and I, I, I did  _nothing._ It's my fault. It's my fault," Lydia sobs, letting it all fall out in the open. Stella's not there to piece her back together. But it feels like a weight has been lifted off of Lydia once the words have escaped her mouth. 

Stella sits back in shock, absorbing the words. 

"It's not your fault, Lydia." Stella says firmly, grabbing her new best friends shoulders and looking her dead straight in the eyes. She repeats the words three times, before Lydia finally weakly nods and repeats the words herself: It's not my fault. 

 

 

There's a forest, trees everywhere. 

Lydia hears a sharp cry in the distance. 

Running, she follows the sound of the cry until she comes to a clearing in the middle of the forest. 

Lying in the middle of the clearing is a girl, Lydia walks closer towards the figure. 

It's Allison. 

 

 

With a start, she wakes up. Feeling that something isn't right. Pushing the blankets off of herself, she grabs her coat from off of the floor and races outside into the cold air. 

Runs towards the field. There's a body there.

Lydia feels a sense of dread fill her, a scream erupting from the pit of her stomach — 

_howl, you're a banshee._

 

 

"What were you doing out at 1:23 in the morning, Ms. Martin?" Detective Carla Jacobs asks her, a stern look on her wrinkled face as she stares Lydia down. Lydia flinches at the question, at the detectives harsh gaze. 

"I don't know," Lydia replies softly. Detective Jacob slams her hand against the table, causing Lydia to jump in fright, eyes wide. 

"You  _don't know_? How do you  _not know_ what you were doing out so late?" Detective Jacob asks again. Her tone is harsh and accusing, there's nothing sweet or nice about it. She wants answers. Lydia straightens up her back, a hard edge returning back to her posture.

"Yes. That is what I said, Detective Jacobs." Lydia replies haughtily. The Detective leans back in her chair, shaking her head, and letting out a little unbelievable laugh. 

"Let her go, we'll question her later." Detective Jacobs tells another coworker. Lydia gives her a tight, bitchy smile as she leaves. 

 

 

It's seven in the morning when she returns back to the dorm. 

Stella has already left for class, a note tapped to the fridge for Lydia:  _Have to go to class, good luck with the police! x_

 

 

Lydia crawls underneath the bed and pulls out the Argent book. 

 

 

"Nadine, hey." Lydia greets, as she paces around the dorm room. Cradling the phone in one hand, and the Argent book in the other.

"Lydia!" Nadine greets back happily. Lydia smiles despite herself, a small blush creeping against her cheeks. Remembering late nights in France, Nadine's body pressed up against hers as she peppered soft kisses against her neck.

"This is going to be a weird question, but do you know of any Argents living in the area?" 

"Yeah, there's Mia Argent. There used to be more, but they all kind of moved." 

Lydia stays on the phone for another hour, talking and giggling with Nadine. Mia Argent, her address and her phone number scribbled down onto a piece of paper. 

 

 

Lydia isn't questioned again, 

(they find the murderer, apparently). 

 

 

"Let's get drunk!" Stella squeals, pulling Lydia out of the dorm and towards Jessica's dorm. 

Lydia grins, her mouth already tasting like liquor. Jessica welcomes them inside, her roommate Louise lying out on the couch, a cigarette placed in between her fingers. Lydia frowns, smoking is a  _disgusting_ habit. But — she's already intrigued by Louise. 

 

 

It takes four hours before Louise kisses her, she tastes like smoke and vodka and chocolate. 

Lydia sighs against her touch, fingers tracing up her arms and resting on her face. 

Louise is truly beautiful, rich dark mocha eyes, dark brown curly hair, soft brown skin — 

"I think I might be in love with you," Lydia drunkenly sighs against her skin. 

 

 

After that the four of them become attached at the hip: Stella, Jessica, Louise and Lydia. 

They're such an odd bunch. 

Stella, an art major, tattoos and pink. 

Jessica, a theatre and english major, party girl. 

Louise, engineer major, rebel. 

Lydia, science and math major, broken princess trying to rebuild herself. 

 

 

Lydia is back in France again. 

With Nadine kissing her lips and shoving her into empty bathroom stalls. 

"I've missed you," Nadine grins, cradling her face. 

 

 

"Mia Argent?" Lydia asks, her red hair pinned up in an elegant but messy bun, a bag thrown carelessly over her shoulder that she grips for her dear life, knuckles going white. 

The woman in front of her is about thirty years old, dark brown hair and hazel eyes, lean and tall. 

"Yes, and who may you be?" The woman replies curtly, eyes lingering over Lydia. Judging her. 

"I'm Lydia Martin. Allison was my best friend." Mia urges her inside, looking worriedly across the street.

 

 

Mia makes her tea and asks Lydia to show her the Argent book. 

Things start to fall into place and Lydia's blood runs cold. 

"It was planned?" Lydia gasps, the cup she was holding falling out of her hand and shattering against the ground. Mia frowns at the mess as she nods. 

"Yes — all Argent deaths are, they're all predicted. We're not supposed to know when they happen, or why. But they're destined before we're born. Allison must of been the end of the line, such a shame, really." Mia sighs, shaking her head as she bends down to clean up the mess. 

 

 

Lydia contemplates burning the book. 

Nadine tells her not to. 

 

 

Lydia leaves France. 

 

 

Stella thinks Jessica and Louise should move in with them. 

Lydia happily agrees, never taking her eyes off of Louise. 

Oh, they'll have a lot of fun together. 

 

 

"I passed!" Lydia squeals with glee, holding up the essay in her hands. 

Granted, she's a genius but she had been frightened that she wouldn't pass.

Jessica produces a bottle of vodka with a sly grin. The girls knock it back and do shots until they're stumbling around the apartment, screaming songs at the top of their lungs and dancing until their limbs flail and they fall onto a heap on the floor. 

 

 

Louise kisses the inside of her thigh. 

Lydia grins lazily, eyes trained on the clock.

Their roommates will be home in half an hour. 

"Hurry," Lydia urges. Louise grins up at her wickedly,

"Oh no, I think I'd much rather take my time." 

 

 

(Lydia doesn't complain). 

 

 

Stella answers the home phone for the dorm room, putting it on speaker phone. 

"Hellooo," She coos, painting her nails at the kitchen counter. 

"Is Lydia there?" Lydia's head shoots up, red hair flying all over the place as her hand freezes at the buckle she was doing up on her heel.  _Kira._

"Is everything alright?" Lydia asks worriedly, chewing her lip. A habit she had picked up over the course of the year; Stella does it, all right. 

" _No,_ " Kira laughs, a sharp laugh full of energy and glee. Lydia relaxes into a smile. Whatever bad news isn't death, probably a stupid mistake. 

"Stiles and Malia are  _married_. It was a drunk accident as we were passing through Vegas, but Lydia  _oh my god,_ they're  _married._ " Kira pauses to laugh, deep chuckles escaping from her lips. Lydia guesses that she watching them interact. 

Lydia's heart pangs a little, she almost wishes she had taken the year off as well. Like Scott, Kira, Stiles and Malia had. But then she glances around the room, at Stella and Jessica and Louise, at all the little pieces scattered around the room that remind her of them and she grins: She's glad she went to university. 

"You have to help us, Lydia!" Kira laughs, rattling off about how within the next week would be nice. That they miss her. 

" _Fine,_ I'll book a plane ticket now!" Lydia replies, laughing. 

 

 

(And Lydia thinks that maybe things will turn out okay, 

she lost Allison but she made new friends and the broken pieces are starting to be placed back together). 

 

 

"It's only a weekend," Lydia tells her, fingers running through Louise's hair. 

Louise angrily frowns at her, not wanting her to leave. 

"I'm going to hook up with the hottest girl while you're away." Louise states. 

Lydia shrugs, "I'm gonna have a threesome with my friends." 

Both dissolve into a fit of giggles as they give each other a small kiss goodbye. 

 

 

Lydia visits Allison's grave before she goes to meet her friends. 

Sitting cross legged in front of it, she places a flower on top of the marble. 

"I miss you, Ally. Everything I do, I think of you and how much more fun it would be if you were there. But I'm getting better, I'm thinking about seeing a therapist, you know, to talk about you. About everything. It would do all of us some good. When you first died, I avoided everything that reminded me of you, almost acted like you didn't exist. You're everything to me, Allison. Even now. Still. I could never forget you. 

I saw Mia, she's your aunt. Apparently there's to be no more Argents. I think I might steal your bow while I'm here, take it back to university with me. Maybe I'll learn how to use it. Stella's my roommate there, she knows you." Lydia laughs, and grins and cries a little as she talks to Allison. 

It's nice doing this, she never did this before she moved. 

She stays for three and a half hours, would of stayed longer if she hadn't gotten a text from Kira urging her to come already. 

 

 

"Bye, Allison." Lydia says over her shoulder.

 

 

Lydia comes back to university feeling like a different person, no longer does she feel her heart aching. 

She'll always miss Allison, but it's something she's learning to cope with, not to bury. 

 

 

Her therapist is lovely, a woman named Allysa who brings her cookies and shares her own wild stories from her youth. 

Lydia laughs and Allysa comforts her when she cries about Allison. 

 

 

Louise and Lydia break up the week before their first year of university ends. 

 

 

"I loved you," Louise tells her, pressing a sweet kiss to Lydia's lips. 

"I love you," Lydia tells her earnestly, sweetly. 

 

 

But it's better to leave her like this — before it all turns horrible, they'd work better as friends anyway. Louise is half in love with Mary White and Lydia thinks she needs more time to herself, she's only half way done healing. 


End file.
